


The Dress

by rhysndtrash



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 17:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8722813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysndtrash/pseuds/rhysndtrash
Summary: Feysand + "Strip, darling."
Or, in which Rhysand surprises Feyre in the opening of her Gallery even though he's supposed to be working and Feyre surprises Rhysand with very, very nice underthings.





	

Feyre didn’t think she’d ever seen such a beautiful night. The full moon was high in the sky, the stars shone so brightly they illuminated the streets bellow them, and those streets were filled with people.

She stood outside a grey building with a huge colorful painting on top of its entrance, looking at people passing by, wondering if any of them would come inside.

She smoothed a hand down her silky black dress for what felt like the hundredth time that night, and sighed, calming her nerves. She was about to turn around and go back inside when two strong arms snaked their way around her torso and hugged her from behind. She breathed in the smell of citrus and the sea just as her husband pressed a kiss to her naked shoulder. “There you are.” he said quietly. “I’ve been looking for you.”

She smiled, turning her face slightly so she could kiss his cheek softly. “When did you get here? I thought you were in a meeting.”

“I was, but Cassian said he could wrap it up.”

“Remind me to thank him, then.” she rested her head against his shoulder, savoring the moment, and put her hands on top of his. She’d been so nervous before tonight, and then anxious as it the night went on and Rhysand wasn’t there to calm her nerves, so it felt wonderful to finally have him there.

“You look beautiful.” he said after a while. Feyre turned in his arms, bringing her hands up to tangle in his blue-black hair, and kissed him deeply.

“Thank you.” she said and then whispered in his ear, “If you like the dress, you should see what I’m wearing underneath.”

He growled in approval, nibbling her ear, and shooting her a look that he’d definitely find that out later tonight. “Later.” He wispered and pressed another kiss to her mouth before stepping back and grabbing her hand. “Shall we go in?”

She nodded, biting her lip, and followed him inside.

The Gallery was flowing with people of all kinds, and it had Feyre feeling a kind satisfaction she did not know yet she was capable of. Seeing her painting on the walls filled her with so much pride and anxiousness and she just wanted to thank everyone that’d helped her get here.

Of course she’d invited all of her professors from Prythian University to come to her and Mor’s Grand Opening, but she had not yet seen any of them. It had been years, of course, since she’d last seen them, but she was certain she’d recognize them. But she also realized that they probably had better things to do than come to a small Gallery at a not so nice part of town.

Even so, she could not be more proud at what her and Mor had accomplished with their small Gallery. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it was nice and it was theirs.

“Feyre! Rhys!” Mor’s voice sounded from behind her. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Sorry, Mor.” Feyre said, letting go of her hunband’s hand. “I was taking a bit of fresh air.”

“Oh, it is a bit crowded in here isn’t it?” she said excitedly. “Just don’t disappear on me again.” she smiled and turned to the man beside her. “Anyway, Feyre, this is Lucien. He’s interested in one of your paintings!”

 

 

The night passed so quickly it was like a blur in Feyre’s mind, and soon people were coming over to congratulate her and Mor and say their goodbyes.

She felt tired, but utterly relaxed for the first time that whole day, and just wanted to get home as soon as possible and get out of these stupid clothes. And as her husband’s hands lingered on her body—around her shoulders, on her lower back, making circles on her waist—, she knew she was not the only one thinking of getting home, but she did not let her mind wander.

“You ready to go home?” Rhys finally said as the Gallery emptied of people. She nodded somewhat sleepily and rested her face on his shoulder.

Mor smiled. “You go ahead, I’ll close up.”

The walk back to their apartment was quiet. They walked hand in hand, and Rhysand noticed her shivering in her strapless dress against the chilly breeze, and offered her his suit.

They had barely gotten to their building when Feyre stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft, soft kiss to his mouth, whispering, “Thank you,” another kiss. “For tonight.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Feyre, darling.” he drew her in and deepened the kiss, ignoring the doorman as they passed the entrance of the building and got into the empty elevator. “I will always be glad to be there to see you shine.”

Silver lined her eyes at his words and she kissed him harder, deeper, hands roaming his body—down his chest, up his back, tangling in his hair—

PING!

The door to the elevator opened and Feyre jumped off Rhysand so fast she almost fell on the floor. He snickered quietly as she reddened, and an elderly woman came into the elevator, taking in their ruffled hair and swollen lips, and shaking her head slightly.

The awkward silence that followed had both Feyre and Rhys laughing under their breaths, and they thanked whatever Gods were above them that the 8th floor was just two floors away from them.

As soon as they got off the elevator, Rhys picked her up in his arms and she wrapped her legs around him. He kissed Feyre soundly as he walked them to their apartment door and unlocked it, never taking his lips from hers.

He let her down so her could close the door behind them, turning away from her for a second. She whined a bit at the loss of contact, and he said, “So eager, aren’t we?”

Instead of answering, Feyre grabbed a handful of that soft blue-black hair and pulled him to her, peppering every bit of skin she could find with open mouthed kisses. Rhys moaned.

He let his hands fall to her breasts, still covered by that amazing black dress, and traced a line on the hem of it, saying, “That dress really does look exquisite on you.”

A gleam of pure mischief shone in her eyes as she got on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “I look even better without it.”

“Oh, I know.” he growled in approval. “And I recall someone saying they had special underthings.”

“Oh?” Feyre’s smile was nothing short of feral as she lead him to the bedroom, kicking off her heels and taking out pins from her hair.

“Yes,” he continued. “And she told me to wait until we were home and then I could have my way with her.” he stepped closer as she closed the door to their bedroom and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, arms snaking around her torso.

“Umm,” she smiled as he kept pressing open mouthed kisses on her collarbone, on her throat, up her neck, on her jaw, on her cheek.

“Well, then? Can I collect my prize?” he said into her ear in that slow, seductive voice, nibbling her earlobe. “Strip, darling.”

Feyre would’ve blushed if she didn’t want this as much as he did, and she forced herself to remain calm as she laughed and said, “Look who’s eager now.”

She positioned him to lay on the bed with a push on the chest, and stood in front of him, a bit unsure of herself. But as she saw the darkness in his violet eyes, the lust that coated them, she could not help but feel reassured.

Feyre unzipped her dress slowly, moving her hips to a phantom music, feeling a bit foolish, sure, but Gods, what didn’t she do for Rhysand? She let her dress fall to the floor and then she stood there, in her underthings, which were red and lacy and left little to the imagination.

She danced in her spot in front of the bed, turning around so he could catch every angle of her, before removing her lacy underwear and letting it fall to the ground. And then, she walked over to Rhysand, straddling him, and said, “Not fair. You still have clothes on.”

She kissed him deeply, one hand buried in his hair and the other wandring the planes of his chest. She pulled away for a moment, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and he took this opportunity to kiss her neck, suck at her pulse point.

As soon as his shirt and tie were off, Rhysand put a hand on her back and turned them around, laying her on the bed and lowering his face to hers in a kiss. She could feel him, rock hard against her thigh, and she rocked her hips against him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Feyre.”

His palms travelled down to her breasts, then down in circles to her belly button, to her navel, until—there.

At the the first stroke of his finger she was moaning his name, and spreading apart and coming together all at the same time, and she didn’t think it could get any better than this. He nipped at her breast, licking her nipple, and she sighed, trembled under his mouth and hands.

“Rhys—” Feyre said, barely a whisper. “Rhys—”

She struggled to pull him to her, for those devilish fingers to stop their motions for a second, and fumbled with his belt. She pulled his pants down, needing him, wanting him, now.

Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, and she kissed again as he positioned himself at her entrance, pausing only for a moment, as if to ask for her permission, and then—oh.

The earth seemed to stop as he moved, showering her with kisses and marking her skin and nibbling at points of her body. She soon fell into rhythm with him, and with each powerful stroke he undid what little was left of her composure, making her world turn and her body fill up with so much life and light and love she could not contain herself as she moaned, “Rhys.”

The world seemed to turn as she came, scratching at his back, toes curling on the sheets. He soon followed, coming with a loud roar.

Rhys kissed her brow, laying down beside her and putting his arms around her, whispering, “I love you, Feyre.”

“I love you, too, Rhysand.”


End file.
